It sometimes seemed darker here in the West End after night fell, darker than other places in Rhy'Din. The shadows felt longer and deeper as they stalked you back and forth across the dimly lit streets that were always wet with something pungent, no matter the season or weather. A puddle rippled as he stepped through it but Fin didn't notice, trying to remember the directions given to him by one of the customers that came to the smithy regularly. Down this lane, take a left and it should be somewhere around...there.

The street numbers were cracked and faded with age but he could at least make them out if he peered closely and squinted. A lot. The poor lighting didn't help but he figured he could knock and either be told to fuck off, get shanked or allowed entrance. Wasn't life exciting? A crooked, bent old man with a vicious glare and even more officious body odor answered the door, mumbled a few words and then gestured sharply for Fin to follow. There was a small room in the back of this house - though to call it small was being generous. There was a dubious looking mattress on the floor that looked like bed bugs might go out of their way to avoid, it was so filthy. A brazier stood cold in the corner and some water leaked just to the left of that but he could probably fix that himself. No electricity, no running water but it was a place to lay his head at least that he could come by honestly. Say he earned it with his own money, by his own merit. Besides, he'd been in worse.

Some coins were exchanged, palms were spit upon and shook together and Fin had his own place to live. Even for that little shit hole, he felt proud of himself. It wasn't a hand out from anyone, he wouldn't have to rely upon the kindness of others to say he could support himself. And he did it all by himself. Maybe, at his age, that wasn't really anything to boast about but Fin took it as an accomplishment. One he might even brag about (but never bring anyone to show). With that out of the way, he went to the nearest seedy dive in order to get to know the local color.

Snow was falling again. He could hear it, if he was quiet enough - the barely-there sound of the flakes hitting barrels and puddles and his cloak as he sat in a cold, shadowy alley. Fin had washed up some after work but still wore his kilt and cloak, the brooch a cheap piece of tin that wasn't even worth its own weight. Sitting atop a covered barrel, Fin smoked a cigarette, listening to the burn of the rolling papers with each drag, eyes closed and waiting. In his lap rested a white cardboard box that held cold calzones and some cookies.

The food was courtesy of Cianan and Antonia, part of some tradition they had to make food and give it away for free. These were leftovers and Fin had asked if he could take them. There were children here that were starving, that would sell their souls for a bit of food on a cold day. Fin was here to see if he could maybe keep some souls free for another day.

So far, there hadn't been any takers but he could feel eyes on him. Something pittered by and he cracked an eyelid to see it was a cat that paused near him, sniffing, but then moved on when he bobbed a foot at it. The sun had just fallen and the snow was getting heavier when he heard a footstep. A human footstep, or at least something larger than a cat. Opening both eyes, Fin saw it was the boy from the other day. The wee one that had run away from him. Fin didn't smile because smiles were tricks and lies in this world but there was kindness in his eyes as he met the boy's gaze. A gaze that was as old and weary as his own.

Reaching in to the box, he held out one of the calzones, which was enough to feed this boy for two days. The boy looked at it and the back to Fin while the blacksmith waited patiently. After a few more moments of this Mexican stand off, he said softly, "No tricks. No favors. Just food." The little boy frowned at him and after another moment, darted forward to snatch the wrapped calzone out of his hand and then dance backward quickly. "I have more. I will be here till this box be empty," he said as the boy faded back into the shadows, hoping that word would spread.

It was snowing again. Big, fat, wet flakes that seemed to melt at first but then slowly built up over time into a heavy, sodden, slushy mess that made the world seem grey on the surface as well as in the hovering sky. That's what the clouds felt like - hovering, waiting for something.

They added to Fin's nervous energy. He, too, was waiting with a covered basket of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. Nothing fancy, just some peanut butter and jelly, but they were better than starving and didn't come at a price. Sitting on what had come to be his normal barrel, Fin was glad that his cloak had a hood, letting the thick woolen fabric cover him all the way down to his ankles. He was still cold but at least he wasn't getting wet, too.

A pair of eyes came at him from the back of the alleyway - Fin always noticed the eyes first, couldn't say why. It was the same boy from the other times but now, he wasn't alone. There was an older girl with a fixed sneer on her face. She had dark eyes that were fixed on the head of the little boy in front of her but when the boy's step quickened, she looked up and those scornful eyes widened in surprise. Fin guessed that she hadn't believed the boy about someone handing out food for free. Made his lips twitch but he didn't grin, just glanced down at the boy who was being bolder this time, making straight for him with two hands out. A brief flash of a smile curled his lips (couldn't help it) but then it was gone. The cloth over the basket was peeled back and two sandwiches were brought out.

Cigarette hanging from his lips, he didn't try to speak to them except to say, "M'names Fin." Mumbling around the smoke. Didn't ask for their names (for all he knew, they didn't even speak the same language) but he felt this was a good start. Trust wasn't something gifted over night.

The little boy shuffled back to the girl and gave her a sandwich, the two whispering between each other. Fin looked up at the sky with squinted eyes, as if he saw something very interesting up there but was really just giving the two some space to discuss whatever needed discussing. He just happened to glance down in time to see the boy stiffen, his gaze darting to the mouth of the alley. Fin's head whipped around to see the teenager was back, and this time he had company. Oh joy. With a great sigh, Fin slithered to his feet and shoved the basket toward the children. "Just take this an' go," he muttered urgently at them before lifting a hand from his cloak to take his smoke from his lips. "Good eve, lads," offering a cheeky smile. The patter of scurrying feet were heard behind him and he hoped they at least took the food with them.

"I told you this alley belonged to someone else," said the teenager, puffing up in a menacing manner. Well, Fin was certain it was meant to look menacing though the mark was missed just a wee bit. The larger man said nothing - he didn't have to. The man's entire body was a threat that hung in the air around him, exuding from him. Large and well muscled, he was obviously here to teach Fin a lesson or something along those lines. Right, that was how this worked. The cigarette was flicked into the snow and Fin sighed again. "I do no' suppose it would make a difference if I told ye tha' I did no' want to fight ye?" The larger man didn't say anything, just advanced on Fin. The two circled and danced about each other, throwing hits here and there to test the other - speed, reflexes, all that. But as it happened, there was something much more threatening than a big man with big fists in that alley way - ice. Ice and slushy, slippery snow. The Scot took a heavy step and went down, his head bouncing into a puddle and against the cobblestone. Dazed, he lay there long enough for the big man to cross the distance and plant a boot right in his gut. Stars exploded across his vision while he struggled to breathe, another kick to his middle. The teenager was speaking but Fin couldn't make out his words, was fighting to make sense of anything, screaming at himself to get it together and DO something. Everything was in slow motion and then he saw that foot coming again. Steeling himself, Fin managed to catch it, curl his body around it as it came toward him and catch hold with one arm. His other hand shot out in a fist, catching the big man square in the groin. He fell sideways and Fin scrambled, pulling a dirk from his boot and placing the point just under the chin of the big man.

Gasping for breath, panting desperately for air, he fixed a glare on the teenager. "I will no'...be intimi....dated. I will...no' leave." Not wanting to risk another beating, the big man was clocked in the temple with the side of Fin's fist (a few times) and then he was out. Fin stood and feinted a lunge at the teenager just to watch him turn tail and flee. Grunting, he bent to sheathe his dirk and limp out of the alley way. Best to get out of here while he still could. And to think of what the hell he was going to tell Antonia.

Crows were snitches, that really was all there was to it. Benjamin moved quietly from the shelter of the porch of a shabby church turned homeless shelter, his almost-pet crow Link riding his shoulder. He hadn't been idle, he rarely was, while he waited.

He took about a block before he fell in beside Finlay, carrying an old wooden toolbox, seeming to be little more than just another young man pounding the pavement, maybe looking for work, maybe just moving to keep warm.

Benjamin was almost always warm. He glanced aside to Finlay with a flickering of grin, a lift of brow.

"There's always the oldest one, trying to keep the young ones alive," he murmured, simply and without preamble. It was more than just an idle remark, more than a pointed one. He offered Finlay back some control over the morphine fueled ramblings, so he could say what he wanted to, and not what nightmares forced from him.

"You were the oldest, and that got used. Hard," Benjamin responded, letting his gaze return to the gray streets, his voice taking no tone, no judgement. He left it there, he'd seen the agony in Finlay's eyes. He could face it, but he didn't like to.

After a moment, however, he did turn his head to look Finlay in the eye, fearless, calm. He was a chameleon of a man, flamboyant and charming, and nothing more than another poor workman, a hard hearted and determined warrior, a purring kitten, a lecherous sex toy.

Benjamin gave his self in the gaze - a bright star of soul.

"I'm with you," he shrugged faintly.

There was a gentle touch of smile to the gaze returned to him. All that was offered in that gaze was seen, accepted without question.

"You didn't ask," he shrugged slightly, "It's what I seek. I've sought it for a long time. It's what my parents are."

Rather than to pull out his phone, he fished an old photograph from his wallet. It was some ten or more years old, a horrifying thing. A little Thai girl, nine or ten, with eyes so dead that the tiny spark of hope in them was garishly visible, stood stiffly with a beautiful Arapaho woman behind her, protecting hands on her little shoulders, wearing the first new dress she'd ever owned. He showed it to Finlay.

"This is the second photograph of my little sister, Kimi, after Mum took her out of the brothel."

A snarling, pained smile crossed Benjamin's face.

"The first photograph, that was evidence in the court case that gave her to us."

"Don't drive me off," he responded quietly, taking back the photo. There was another photo - many - of Kimi to share, the ones of her laughing and happy and healed. Those were on his phone.

"I'll watch your back," he shrugged faintly, and didn't seem to be much of a bodyguard. It was more, perhaps, in the crow quietly on his shoulder. "There's not of a way out here, but you know what only you can know. You can lay that path down."

A gentle nudge, shoulder to shoulder, to get them moving again. They were, after all, just a pair of young men on the bad side of town.

Canaan explained some, but simply in those terse words 'it can be incapacitating', Benjamin realized he was wholly out of his depth. He simply couldn't understand the dynamics of a deeply committed monogamous relationship.

Nor the break up of one.

Benjamin could only do what he could. He could feel. He could sit and offer quiet support. He could hold Fin close and wait for the storm to pass. That much, he could do.

While turning away from the more than nagging sense that there was far more to it than they knew.

Life doesn't stop for one broken heart, that Benjamin did know. He quietly packed up a duffle bag of supplies - food, blankets, vouchers for Thorn's shelter and rescue.

Benjamin wasn't sure why exactly Finley had taken to haunting that one particular alleyway, but he did know he hadn't established any rapport with the kids there. He left the duffle bag where Fin usually sat, and walked away.

It wasn't so simple, and Benjamin knew it. He glanced at the large, beefy, terrifying looking man who'd been standing on a corner in eyeshot of the alley all morning.

It would have been easy to accidentally hire someone in those bad streets who was exactly the person who made things worse. Benjamin already realized that, and had turned to Our Lady of Perpetual Misery.

When a gang banger turned from the ways of evil to a higher power, it was often simply a changing of colors and turfs. So it was with Wyld Dawg.

Wyld Dawg preached the word of righteousness, or he would pull your empty little head off and play conkers with it. Benjamin hired the man to make sure none but a kid took off with the duffle bag.

It was the best Benjamin could do. That and hope that a kid taking the bag could get it back to other kids. The ones that needed it.

Benjamin exhaled softly as he turned his step to find a certain row of Brownstones.

The day was foggy and misty, making everything seem close and muffled. Sounds that reached the Scot's ears in the alleyway made him twitchy, glancing around suspiciously because the back of his neck kept tingling. Spidey senses were going off for no reason that he could determine other than the weather held an ominous thread that was winding itself tighter and tighter around Fin.

With a groan, he slid his arse onto the covered barrel that was his normal seat here, wrapped up in some jeans and his pea coat - the cold was pervasive, sneaking through his layers to wrap around his bones, fingers feeling stiff and achey. But they stubbornly held on to the box in his lap. It contained wrapped sandwiches and some food leftover from Taneth and socks. Tons of socks. They would most likely be too large for the smaller children but at least his thievery of Ketch's drawers would be going to a good cause. They could be used to wrap hands or feet, layered for warmth until the size didn't matter, only the service they provided.

Blue eyes kept straying to the mouth of the alley because he could barely see beyond it to the building across the way and he wouldn't have any advance warning if someone came for him. But his visits were so sporadic these days, longer blocks of time in between them due to...his own personal bullshit, honestly. It made him feel low but he was determined to turn that around and change it because these kids deserved better, they deserved every effort he could make. They didn't need him feeling sorry for himself like a pathetic whiny little shit so he was going to need to stop doing that.

With a hard sigh, he leaned back against the building and flexed his fingers to try and keep them warm. The idiot really needed to get some gloves. Pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up (took a few times with his stiff joints), Fin got as comfortable as he could get and waited. Figured it would take even longer in this weather for the spying eyes at the back of the alley to make him out or even think to look for him so he was surprised when only a few minutes passed and little Laric darted forward.

Fin straightened when he noticed movement, quick to pull the cigarette from his mouth and give a tight, apologetic smile to the lad. "Hello." Laric stared at him with a frown, quiet for some time before he spoke softly. "You came back." Fin's smile faded and he nodded solemnly. "I should no' have been gone so long. I be sorry." Laric was quiet again, not quite sure how to take that, eventually just nodding to show...acknowledgement, if not acceptance. "They're mad," he said to the tall blonde man sitting on the barrel. "Someone else came, left a bag but...we didn't know them." Fin frowned over that, not sure what to make of it and then he suddenly remembered, in his haze of pain and degredation, that Ben had mentioned something about trying to help. "I have a friend," he replied. "He tried to help. I'll bring him 'round some time so ye might see him." So they could know who Ben was and not fear him. Laric glanced away and then down at his hands before looking up at Fin again. "Are you coming back again?" After this day. Fin swallowed and nodded, guilt eating him up. "Aye, lad. Again an' again. I will no' stop," his voice low but even. Laric nodded again and then moved forward to accept the box from Fin, taking it back to his hidey hole without another word.

Fin stared after him and then scrubbed at his face wearily with one hand. Slithering to the ground, he decided not to press his luck and made his exit.

Time always seemed to slow down and then speed up in astronomical bursts that defied all logic and reason when going about day to day business. Routine was the killer of spontaneity and it usually took something large, often something traumatic to break the routine and cause one to pull their head out of the sand and look around. Take stock and prioritize the things that made up the routine.

For Fin, that something had been Taneth. Oh, she was still around in her own way, still remembered him but...it was different. The Taneth he knew, the body and face that comforted him and held him during the darkest days of the past few months, were buried underneath a tree. He'd gone with Ben and shed his tears on the turned earth there, left an offering and spoke to her as if she was still there. He had plans to visit again, as often as he could, talk to her like Glory and Little Taneth recommended so that she might be enticed to return to them.

Until then, however, Fin thought there might be another way to serve the memory of her, a better way. In her name, he was going to breathe new life into his efforts to get Laric and his other little alleyway mates off the streets, keep them out of the hands of the local gang. In his mind, Taneth had been an eternal child, a little sister (if Fin ever had a little sister) and so it was natural and fitting to devote himself to protecting other children in her memory.

With that resolution in mind, he sat not on top of the covered barrel which had become something of a habitual perch but instead, he was hunkered down on the ground next to it. Kilt was folded so that everything was hidden and still kept warm, one knee curled to his chest and a hand propped on it, smoke curling idly from a cigarette that dangled between two knuckles. Ben made extra food just for this occasion and it sat in a box on the ground next to the Scot while he waited for signs of life to show themselves. Blue eyes were fixed upward on the cerulean sky, the weather finally cooperating with the season.

When he heard little feet, his gaze was drawn down expecting to see the familiar little boy with dark hair and dark eyes but he was surprised to find that it was his female companion, instead. She was older, maybe around twelve years of age (if he had to guess) with a lackluster hair color that was neither blonde or brown but some muddy ancestor of both. It was held back in a braid that threatened to fall loose at any moment and there was a stubborn wariness harbored clearly in dark green eyes. Coming to a stop on the other side of the alley opposite from Fin, the two stared at each other for many long minutes - she with blatant suspicion, ready to run at a moment's notice while Fin remained calm and quiet, meeting her gaze evenly to show he had nothing to hide. Cigarette smoke and tension curled slowly between them but there were no words that would ease it, nothing she might believe without proof. With a slow and deliberate movement of his hand, Fin snagged the box with a finger and slid it around his knee toward the girl, giving a little extra push so that it might slide over the cobblestones to rest between them.

Those angry and distrustful green eyes watched the box as it slid closer and he could see that she wanted it. Badly. Past actions told her that there would be food in there because Fin never brought anything else except for the random articles of clothing that sometimes accompanied the culinary offerings. Her jaw wiggled back and forth behind a grimace and the Scot guessed she was debating with herself before darting forward quickly on light feet to snatch the box and and skitter backward until her back rested against the bricks of the building that made up that boundary to the alley. Fin just canted her head and watched, secretly pleased that she accepted the box at all. A slight and dirty hand lifted the box top to show sandwiches wrapped in wax paper stacked neatly on top of each other. Nothing fancy, just some peanut butter and jelly, but he was certain it would be a welcome delight to mouths that were used to feeding upon scraps and garbage.

The girl's weight shifted and she looked to Fin again before turning but as she did, Fin spoke. "Tell him I will be around more." There was no response, no acknowledgement as the lass skittered off but hopefully the message would be received.

Night Angels - Part 1

Fin was feeling considerably better, considering his condition on Monday morning. Coat was on with a woolen dark blue and grey scarf tucked around his neck. Obviously ready to go out, just waiting on Cris, who had agreed to come over for the evening. The other man wasn't cognizant of Fin's errand or the fact that he'd be coming along with the Scot but surprises were good for the Nephilim.

It depended on the surprise. Though as long as it wasn't a loud, drunken party, he could generally find it acceptable. Cris arrived at an apartment that had become rather familiar to him over the past few months. He didn't attend Ketch's Sunday breakfasts every week, but he found himself there once in a while, and movie nights with his friends always took place there. For the simple fact that motel rooms did not come with adequate technology. On the doorstep, he knocked. Once, a pause, then three times in rapid succession.

Fin opened the door immediately as he was waiting in the kitchen, anyway, drinking a glass of water. It was set near the fishbowl before fingers curled around the knob and yanked the door open with a smile. "Good eve." The man was shooed backward so that Fin could crowd out in to the hallway next to him and then lock the door. "We be goin' somewhere, if tha' be alrigh'," heading down the hallway for the stairwell. The Scot still didn't enjoy riding up and down in elevators - the ground moving under your feet was unnatural. Unnatural!

Blinking, he took a step back in surprise as the door sucked itself open. That was fast. "Good evening." Then a slight frown in confusion, "That's fine. Where, exactly?"

The door was opened and held for Cris, Fin's other hand holding a plastic shopping bag that dangled quietly for now, since he wasn't in motion. "Just takin' a wee walk to stretch our legs. I ha' been penned inside all week, ha' no' been feelin' well. Took a visit to Eva few days ago for wee pills to make m'self feel better." That was still a wonder to him - take a pill and it healed you, quick as anything! Like magic. Down the stairs he clattered, expecting Cris would follow out of curiosity, if nothing else.

And he did, if only because he did not think anything the Scot had planned could be that life changing. He glanced a few times at the shopping bag, hands empty and in his own pockets. That was a lot of wee in those descriptions, as well. "Have they been working?"

Only two wees - was that a lot? Fin would disagree. "Aye. Felt like I migh' be dyin' when I woke on Monday morn, 'tis the only reason I went to see the doctor." Anything less and Fin just waited to see if it would go away on its own. This one hadn't, just gotten progressively worse until he took a visit to the clinic and discovered he had something called a "sinus infection". "Been takin' many pills but Ketch assured me they would make me feel better," shrugging his shoulders as he pushed out the main door to his apartment building and the pair hit the sidewalk. "How ha' ye been since last I saw ye?"

He slipped out behind the other man. "Well, I have not been a dam for mucus, at least. I consider that a victory," a half smile at the jest. "I've been well. I've not done anything terribly outside of my normal routine. You know Eden, yes?"

"Eh...wha' be mucus?" asking with a light frown, unfamiliar with that word. Fingerless gloves graced his hands as the temperature continued to wind down and down into the winter spiral while this world neared its winter solstice. Breath steamed lightly but the Scot knew it would become much worse before the season was finished with them. Hence, the reason for his little jaunt through the streets. Cris was steered toward West End while they spoke. "Eden...aye, the bouncy lass," smiling widely. "Shared a meal wit' her for..eh...Thanksgivin'." Took a moment to remember the name of that recent holiday.

He noticed. Walking West End at all, even during the day was the same as doing so with a neon target on one's back. But especially so, at night. Their "jaunt" was becoming less "wee" the longer they spent out. "Yes. She's asked to help her hone her knife throwing skills. On the way to our practice ground, we were the targets of an attempted mugging."

"Are ye both alrigh'?" he asked with some concern. Cris was a competent fighter, Fin had seen it for himself, but the lack of details and Crispin's tendency to downplay anything regarding himself made it still a valid question. "Where did tha' happen?"

"We are, yes." He attributed Fin's concern completely to Eden's welfare. Clearly, he himself was fine. "She is very---spunky. She held her own, but at the same time, their group was sloppy and seemed to rely too much on surprise." He gestured with a turn of his head somewhere east of where they were headed. "On our way out of town, that way."

"Aye, spunky," grinning. "Tha' be a good word. An' bouncin'." The buildings around them became slightly less well-kept but in the dark, it was harder to tell as they descended into the worse part of town. Not that Fin thought of in those terms, just people that weren't as fortunate, where predators were more likely to prey upon those that couldn't defend themselves. It was some of those seen as prey that Fin was on his way to visit now. "How many o' them were there?"

"Yes, well. She does bounce too, I suppose." West End always reminded him of New York. A throwback to vintage architecture, areas run down and sprayed with graffiti from eye level down to the street. Technology did not work well in some parts, at all in others, and if one wanted to hide, one need only turn down an alley. It was, most likely, the other reason why he did not particularly like to spend time there. Choking on nostalgia wasn't how he liked to spend his time. "Four. A leader, and three lackies."

"Did ye figh' them all on yer own or did Eden join ye?" He knew the lass dueled but those duels were extremely different from actually fighting for your life. The streets and alleys twisted here, turning in on themselves sometimes and you had to know your way around or note the landmarks closely to find your way through the labyrinth. Anyone that seemed lost would be watched closely but Fin kept his head down and walked with confidence. "Was she able to throw any blades at them?"

"Not all on my own, no. She handled the one that grabbed her. Two of them took themselves out all on their own. I did not need to do much. But it was too close quarters for any projectiles." He followed Fin's lead, trusting the man's sense of direction. "They were mundane and unorganized. Had she been a bit larger, or stronger, she would have been fine all on her own."

"Took themselves out?" he asked with an amused air. Some thugs had more enthusiasm than sense or talent for subduing others and it was comical to watch them at work. Down another block and around a corner and it seemed they had reached their destination. A narrow alley behind a liquor store was dark, the overhead lamps had long been shot out or burned out and never replaced because the city tended to neglect these areas. Fin headed down the passageway until they were at midpoint and then he stopped, moving back behind the nearby barrels where he dropped the plastic bag on the ground. A scuffing noise to his left had his head jerking up, tensing and ready for...oh. It was a cat seeking food. A chuff of breath and the Scot chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"It was a very convenient turn of events. Unfortunate for them, of course. I managed to steal the bat of one and help Eden with the one that was left." He paused too, looked with interest in the shadows where Fin had dropped off whatever was in the bag.

It had been some time since he'd run into anyone here besides Laric and the wee lass that sometimes accompanied him. The two children looked out for each other and it was something Fin encouraged mentally though the lass continued to glare at him warily as if he was going to pull a knife on them at any moment despite his months of selfless giving and never asking for anything in return. Laric had become talkative, when he was in a mood and the Scot would never get tired of trying to draw him out. Silence reigned in the cold night air and Fin relaxed, glancing to Cris with a smile. A cigarette was pulled from the case in his back pocket and he offered the open case to the Nephilim as they turned around and started to head back for the street.

"Thank you," and he took one. He'd been smoking more often in public, but presently he didn't feel the need to waste Fin's gift. He tucked the cigarette into his coat pocket with the other two, a freebie for later, and followed after Fin. "What was that, exactly?" motioning to the parcel he'd left behind.

One was tucked between his lips but the lighter was spun around between his fingers for the moment, not wanting to spark too much of a light in the darkness, calling attention to the pair. Voices filtered toward them, a low hum of two men talking loudly in the night. Toward Fin and Cris. The Scot stopped just at the mouth of the alley and finally flicked his lighter to life, putting it to the end of his cigarette. "Food," he murmured to the man at his side. "A lad an' lass tha' stay down this way. I ha' been leavin' things for them for some time, near to a year."

Frowning, he looked from Fin back to the black spit of alley they'd left the bag in. The garbled noise finding its way to them from some distance away drew his gaze next. "How do you know that they're the ones getting the food and not some stray animal? Or someone else, for that matter? Do you stay in contact with them?"

Lips twitched as smoke poured from between his lips and nostrils. "Aye, I be certain tha' most o' the time, they receive the food. Sometimes there be animals tha' get to it first, or others. But I come 'round, keep eyes on them," shrugging before they turned to the left, toward the noise. The voices became louder and more strident and it was apparent that one of them was drunk and the other trying to calm them. A short, thickset man was visible at the other end of the sidewalk and a taller man next to him with broad shoulders. The smaller one sliced a hand through the air and barked something out that was unintelligible at this distance but he was angry.

Lirssa's extracurricular activities were hers to disclose, but Cris shared a quick smile with himself in the dark over the parallels of their personal projects. "Do you still do the same sort of artwork?" pulling a hand from his pocket, mimicking the motions of a spray paint can.

The two pairs of men continued on their set paths toward each other and it was clear that one of them would have to shuffle to the side at some point because the sidewalk was not wide enough for all four to pass abreast of each other. As they neared one another, the drunk man was railing about some woman that found him too repugnant to touch and the 'lesson' that had been taught to her while the man's indignity was soothed. "Aye," nodding with a quiet murmur to Cris, lips thinning as he made out the words being shouted with such vehemence. The Scot fell quiet, eyes narrowing a fraction but he did nothing other than be the first to bend, moving off to the side of the drunk. Fin tried to duck aside politely but a wild gesticulation caught him in the chest and instantly, the drunk bristled and puffed up. "Hey! Why don't you look where you're fucking going?" the shorter man demanded.

It was none of his business, really. Just something to egg on the conversation, fill their walk with something other than the sound of their feet against the cobblestones. He followed Fin's lead, drifting back and to the left a pace and a half.

The thump against Fin's chest sounded more deafening than it should have. Like something heavy descended in the cold air around them, and locked them all in it together. Like Fin's tagging, this was none of his business either. He hadn't been the one hit. He looked to Fin first, then the drunk and his companion---who had taken to doing the same.

Look at Cris, making conversation!! Baby steps. Fin would have given a fuller response but he didn't like speaking of those things openly when strangers were about, and he also didn't want to be distracted while navigating around an angry drunk. As evidenced so far, it took next to nothing to drive one to lash out at a stranger on the street. Fin arched a brow as he stared down at the bloated face that bled into a prominent lack-of-neck. A glance up at the companion told a different story and Fin just nodded to him before continuing on silently. No issue to be taken. Right? Right. Except that Doughboy didn't agree. "Hey! You should fucking apolo...aplo....fucking say sorry! Don't you know who I am?" A steady stream of placation was issuing from the companion in a quiet undercurrent, urging him in the opposite direction of Fin and Cris.

By the Angel, if the rotund man said "Juggernaut bitch," he would laugh. He'd found those mundane films quite entertaining. Their imaginations were always so fantastic. He reached to set his hand on Fin's shoulder in much the same way that Dough Boy's first mate did. Opening his mouth was unwise, and unfair. The drunks were too easy of targets.

The reference would have been lost on Fin. The Scot didn't think that a fight with a drunk on the cold streets of West End was really the most productive way to spend his time, nor did he want any other grudges held against him. Wishing for the peace to be restored, he didn't respond at all, just turned his back and kept moving at the same pace as before. The other two continued on and turned a corner out of sight. Fin took a moment to recall what they'd been talking bout, licked his lips and parted to pick the conversation back up when a scream cut through the air, then it was cut short abruptly. The Scot shared a glance with Cris for just a moment before he spun around to head in the direction of the scream at a brisk walk.

"That was---interesting," he said once the two were out of earshot. The nightlife in Rhy'Din continued to surprise and soothe some sort of nostalgic need he did not always remember he had. Palm dropped from Fin's shoulder.

The scream was not what caught his attention so much as the way it broke off into silence. He met Fin's gaze only because he was looking at the other man when it happened. "Hey---" he chose to follow as opposed to getting left behind.

The scream and the way it was muffled suddenly only meant things went from bad to worse, in his mind. He had to at least make sure it wasn't anyone that didn't need help before he could leave it alone. Running drew attention, could alert the other parties to their presence so Fin walked quickly, instead, slowing once he was at the corner that led to the alleyway where he paused to listen. With an ear cocked, he could hear a voice speaking low coming from his right. Sticking close to the building and keeping in its shadow, he followed those noises back to the alleyway where he'd left the food. Peeking around the corner, he saw the same pair of men and another body, smaller. A slight little thing held in the drunk's grip as he shook her like a rag doll. The taller companion stood to the side with arms crossed. Fin trembled with rage, fingers curled into fists at his sides, blue eyes narrowed to slits, but he did not go charging in. Instead, he turned to Cris to whisper softly, "I be goin' to help her. Ye be welcome to help or walk away as ye feel ye must." No judgment.

Likewise, two heads poking around the same corner wouldn't do well not to draw attention either. He lingered behind the corner, behind Fin, though by the anger radiating from the other man, he guessed that whatever Fin had saw, it had been bad. "What is it?"

"Either a verra small woman or a child. They be hurtin' her." That was all Fin needed to know to qualify for his help. He couldn't just walk away, not with any sort of self respect left. Hoodie was pulled low over his face to help bathe it in shadows and his zipper pulled to his chin before he turned the corner silently, still hugging the bricks.

Crouching behind a barrel in the alleyway where such violence had taken place the night before, Fin was scratching out a crude pictogram on the wall of the brick building. It looked like a five year old's representation of a house - a square box with a pointed top, rectangle for a door and another square for a window. This window had an X scratched over it while Fin furtively glanced over his shoulder between scrawled lines, watching his own back for the few seconds it took to render the sketch.

When he was finished, the chalk was slipped into his pocket and he walked to the mouth of the alley, glancing out cautiously to be certain the coast was clear before easing into the flow of foot traffic on the sidewalk.

"It's a trap!" - Part 1
February 4th

The warehouse rested in the middle of a block of other warehouses, each a kindred of construction. This particular warehouse was snug up to the others, not even an alleyway between, but the back lead straight out to the docks and the front on the main thoroughfare. It was an exceptionally well thought out and situated warehouse. That is, for normal trade. From Lirssa's point of view, it was extremely poor choice for smuggling street children to transport offworld. Maybe that's why it was chosen. It just would not seem like the place to hide such dealings.

The windows were closed and no lights were seen in the upper floor. A faint glow showed in the bottom windows on either side of the dented and tarnished metal front doors. Lirssa leaned against the edge of a building opposite and just watched the place. She wore her charcoal and ash colored clothes, the greys blending with shadows much more readily than black. Her hair was covered in a black scarf. As subtly as she could, she tried to see the best entrances and exits, hoping she had parked Moxie in a good enough place for quick escape if needed.

As people passed by, she kept a lookout for a gangly Scotsman.

The air tonight was thin and brittle, making sounds carry light and easy on the breeze when it cut a path through the streets. Some snow was still frozen in clumps in places where corners kept it shaded from the sun during the day. The tip of Fin's nose was numb but it was easily overlooked in lieu of his mission today. Lir had told him about the location of the warehouse she gleaned from her informants and so he'd gotten here early, taking the day off from the docks to prepare himself. Now, he was on a rooftop nearby and spotted the now-familiar form of his training partner when she sauntered past the front door, cocky as you please. He chuckled and crawled backward from the edge where he'd been perched on his stomach so as not to give himself away. Down the fire escape of that building on the backside, around and he was able to land in the alley behind this building. Down to the opposite end of the block and a loop around to the thoroughfare so he looked like yet another random body coming down the street, hood pulled up so that the shadows hid his features. A cigarette was pinched between his lips and when he passed Lir, the Scot caught her eye and arched a brow at her, indicating that she should walk with him.

The hoodie, the height, the cigarette; there he was. She turned to join him in the walk as subtle as a shadow finally finding its creator. She felt the presence of the warehouse like a raging fire in the hearth. It sat in its comfortable silence, and she watched as a guard walked out of the sliding doors, locking them back up behind him. The patrols were starting. There weren't many. Nothing like the first or second warehouse, but there was also less area to guard with the absence of alleyways. Likely there would be another one or two guards at the back of the warehouse, too. She tried not to grin, thinking they would not be a problem.

To the end of the sidewalk they went, where an intersecting street T-boned this one, and Fin took a right to turn the corner. He stopped and leaned against the building since they were out of sight, pitching one foot against the wooden paneling behind him. "I tried to reach ye a few times today, somethin' wrong wit' yer phone?" he asked in a hushed tone. But ultimately, the answer to that question didn't much matter because she was here, now, and that might be the problem. "I ha' been watchin' for most o' the day, choosin' a different spot each time. I do no' think there be any children in there, I saw some activity earlier, takin' somethin' out the back. Ha' no' been able to get close enough to be certain."

Her phone. In the Moxie. That was a careless thing to do. It was also something to remedy later. Later when she found out what was going on in that warehouse. But Fin didn't think there were children there, and that might mean --- she missed them. She had delayed trying to do the smart thing, and the children were gone already.

But wait. "But, the lady took in a child last night, to the house. She had to have gone out of the tunnel that leads to that exit over there." Over there was given only the barest glance. It was a small iron gate tucked into a brick wall, one of the many that lead into Tunnels below. "Did you see any children, anything that might look like children, being taken out?" She heard the tightness in her voice. If she missed them ...her heart galloped, sending a sick ache to her stomach.

He saw how her eyes widened, the way her body tensed with the self recriminations that must have followed. The same thoughts he'd shared with himself earlier in the day while cursing silently and trying to call Lir. "I did no' see anythin', I was on this side o' the place an' they were takin' them out the back. I would ha' given m'self away if I got closer." Reaching out, he put a hand to her shoulder and squeezed gently to bring her back to the moment. "I am no' certain of anythin'. We will have to see for ourselves," despite how daunting a task that might seem. "But if they ha' been...it no' be yer fault."

The angle of weak streetlamp light across her face showed the rebuke of that last statement. Her eyes narrowed, her fists clenched, and the muscles in her jaw rolled. It was her fault. The platitude of forgiveness from one who suffered nothing from her failure was as a spoonful of water against an inferno. Her voice was steady, logical, cold. "I'm going in there. So, best way in?" Trusting he learned that in his observations.

Lips thinned and he flicked the cigarette away, allowing his hand to drop from her shoulder because she wasn't willing to hear anything but her own responsibility for things that were beyond her control. Only because he had been in her shoes before did he know how consuming the guilt could be, how difficult to see beyond it and so he didn't try beating his head against that brick wall. Not the time or place. Straightening away from the wall, he edged back to the corner of the building to peer around it. "The watch changes shift e'ery three hours. This lot has half the hour left before they change again. Two here, two more 'round the other side. Unless ye think tha' there migh' be somethin' easier on the roof? I ha' some rope..." in case it was needed for anything. Never know - he tried to be as prepared as possible. Despite the seemingly poor location, the place was very defensible and it rankled, whispering in the back of his mind, making his stomach tight.

Her eyes lifted upwards, studying the wall of this warehouse that butted up to the one they wanted. There. And there. Handholds and footholds enough to get to the roof....yes, that would do. "Try roof. Might be an exit or machinery housing can use as entrance." Her hand was out for the rope.

A hand slipped inside his coat for the rope that was coiled in loops, placing it in her waiting hand. "I was hopin' ye would say tha'," giving her a quirk at one side of his mouth. A quick glance around behind her and then himself showed that there wasn't anyone coming at the moment and he motioned for her to do what she was going to do. "Let me know if ye need me to boost ye."

Though she nodded to him so he knew she heard, once the rope was looped over her head, she moved to the wall, resting her hands against the side, looked upwards, and then sprang, catching the upper outside corner of the lower window frame in her fingertips. She hung there a moment while the edge of one soft soled shoe found a foothold to the side. And then it began, the smooth, easy motion of stretch and find. She was not spider-like, but she was steady. It was a few minutes only, and she lifted herself up and over the edge of the roof. The end of a rope soon slithered down with a whisper.

Brows rose as he watched her jump far enough up to catch the lip of the lower window, which to the Scot, was quite a feat given her stature. As was the way she was able to cling the tiniest crevice with the tips of her fingers and toes, suspended there as if it was effortless. To hold up your own body weight on those tiny digits was extraordinary and he had to watch appreciatively, a sketch already forming in his mind. Had to admire the way she was able to keep at it - tenacious, a terrier with a bone. And people thought he was stubborn. He occasionally glanced around at the street but mostly leaned his back against the building and propped a leg up, hands in the pockets of his coat while he skulked as nonchalantly as possible. Didn't look up again until he felt the slight weight of the rope bump against his shoulder. A glance up, swift tug to make sure it was secure and then he started to move up. Hand over hand, occasionally using a boot against the building to gain a little extra leverage but his ascent was a easier than her own had been. Over the ledge to land in a crouch, pulling the rope up after him.

"Welcome to the rooftops. My home away from home." She grinned to him, already looping up the rope as he pulled it up after him. "Over there," she whispered and nodded toward a rectangular hatch on the other building's roof, close to the back area. It was likely a service exit to tend to any rooftop repairs. But what she was actually pointing out was the figure hunched right next to it. She was not at all worried that he would see them back. People walked rooftops a lot. They were not a threat to the guard. Not yet. "Just act casual." Her voice still pitched low.

He seemed to know a handful of women that enjoyed something in particular about the rooftops though for the life of him, Fin couldn't figure out what it was. Sure, he enjoyed the view and traipsing around where he shouldn't be but there wasn't anything that made them stand out in his mind as places he wanted to spend much of his time unless there was a purpose to it. Was there a purpose to Lir's gargoyle perching? From their higher spot on the neighboring building, Fin saw the figure she pointed out and frowned, wondering how he'd not seen that one before. The way he sat against the hatch made him blend into the upper landscape and the Scot now saw his folly. Edging back so they were not as easily seen, he looked to her with an arched brow but followed her lead.

She said in the same cool, low voice, "He'll be tense and he'll be watching, but we aren't on his patch yet, see? Can't just go crazy on anyone walking rooftops around here. The moment we cross into his space though, that's when the fun begins." She reached into a pocket, "But we're going to get the fun started a little early for him. When I drop, be ready to take him out." Her stride to the joining seam of rooftops was half prowl and half swagger. Just as she reached the seam, her hand darted out towards the man. A faint clink and slide is heard, and then Lirssa dropped like dead weight. A streak of light like a series of miniature lightning bolts flared up from the roof and shocked the man, though it was clear it would do little more than distract and dismay. It was up to Fin to finish the job.

Fin had been called impetuous in his day but he had nothin' on Lir. She was balls to the wall, diving in head first and keeping even the Scot on his toes. There was very little time to react to her comment and it was a good thing these mechanisms had been shown to him before else he, too, might have been distracted and blinded by the flash-bangs that had no bang. The lights might have created enough light to draw the attention of those down on the ground and they might have just a few minutes before more bodies were pushing out of the roof hatch. Fin hopped the seam of the buildings a second after Lir did, landing on the lower roofline in a crouch, his eyes on the surprised guard. A blade sprang to his hand and a moment later, it was buried in the throat of the looming threat, effectively blocking off any warning cries that might have erupted. Fin hurried forward - too late to cushion the fall of the body but he was able to retrieve his knife, swipe it quickly across his pants before gripping the hilt in his palm. Ears were cocked, listening intently for any sounds of running feet or noise directly underneath.

Lirssa dropped to the in-between. She had to trust Fin would take the guard out. The device was one of the smaller, earlier gadgets from Penny, bless that crazy granny. It's zap arch was short, sweet, and to the point. It would have been particularly sizzling if the guard had more metal on him. He didn't. When Lirssa came to after powering the gadget, she walked over to the fallen guard and began to search him. She was listening for the sounds of others, too, but found it unlikely. Random flashes of light? In dockside? In Rhydin? No, they would be waiting for a follow up something -- if they caught it at all. And there was silence.

"One of their magickers, seems. Be a piss poor guard without a weapon if he wasn't." She flicked a glance up to Fin. "Nice work."

She shuffled sideways to the hatch, leaning to press an ear to it. Waiting was a challenge, but she needed to try and hear if anything was directly below or coming their way. Sitting back, she glared at the hatch as she considered the options. She could drop to the in-between again, see who all was lurking about that had a bit of magic to them, but that would definitely ruin any surprise they had. But then, who would have the surprise? "Dang nabbit," she muttered as she came to the stalemate of conversation in her head. Then she looked up to Fin. "You okay?" Also known as the ready to keep moving check.

Fin had much metal on him and he was glad that hadn't been pointed in his direction though the amulet he wore helped to protect him from any misdirected side effects. A nod for her compliment and then he waited to see what she might do next, if she had some gadget or spell that might make them invisible when they entered or...whatever else magical people might do in RhyDin. A deafening silence filled with the pounding of his own heart as adrenaline rushed his veins made the Scot jumpy, fingers clenching and unclenching around the handle of his blade. Another quick nod for her question, moving for the hatch to lift it as slowly as he could, not wanting to alert anyone inside to their presence, if possible. More than they already had. Luckily, the thing was well oiled and didn't squeak and he was able to crack it open just a wee bit so that they could peer down inside. He saw at least two more heads sitting at a table, talking to each other in voices too low to hear. Beyond that was...another voice he heard but they were out of his line of vision.

As Fin held the hatch, Lirssa slipped down to the metal landing. It was a simple, metal stairwell that snaked from the floor, along the back wall over the warehouse loading dock doors, and up and across to where the landing was secured by four iron bars bolted to the ceiling. She saw most of the warehouse, though to the right was a wall of crates. More crated children? Or a makeshift room where they kept the beds? Could be just where the guards went to sleep, too. That area would have to be kept in mind when the brou-ha-ha kicked up.

Looking over what she could see, there were the two men at the table. Near the front doors and back there was one each, a man and a woman. Over at a desk sat another man, his head bent over a ledger, smoke curling up from an ashtray where a cigarette burned away its life neglected. Lirssa silently pointed out the people she could see to Fin, then climbed to support the hatch so he could make his way inside with quiet ease and not worry about losing grip of the hatch and it falling.

He was in a pullover hoodie so there was no zipper to accidentally clink or jingle when he was trying to be stealthy. The buttons of his coat had been covered in black electrical tape so they, too, would be muffled did they happen to catch on anything, nor would they catch any passing light. Crouching and leaning against the short shaft that raised the hatch above the surface of the roof, he was able to hold it for her so the lass could slither inside, agile as any serpent. He angled it open wider so that he could not only see her as she assessed the situation inside but in case she needed a fast exit. His face appeared in the widening crack, alert and aware, craning his face to try and see around her while she counted. A nod to the amount of fingers she held up, doing some quick calculations in his head, figuring if he'd need his gun to help even the odds. She held up hands and he thought she meant to come back out but then understood it was so he could come in. He left it open once they were inside because blocking off the nearest escape was never a wise idea. It took effort to be silent on this thin catwalk but he managed to set his boots down upon it without catching any attention.

The occupants below were steady about their business. The cards ruminated over, the pen scratching over papers, and ledger pages turned. A few staccato footsteps from those at the doorways clacked against the uneven tile floor. Lirssa motioned that Fin needed to follow the rafters over to check behind the barricade of crates to the side, and she would follow keeping a lookout. It was easier for her to walk backwards on the rafters than he. It was communicated all in gestures, and she waited to see if he understood. If there was nothing behind those crates, they could get out of there. If the children were there, then that would be something new.

With a nod, he took in the beams at a glance to see which might be the best route over there. Climbing over the railing with careful movements, it took him longer than usual but he managed to get himself onto one of the wooden rafters. There was no safety net here, nothing to stop him if he teetered and fell so he would have to be as quick and nimble as the Jack of legend, jumping over the candlestick. It was more like a bonfire down there, with the looming threat of discovery by numbers that could easily overpower them but he put it out of his mind and held arms out to the side as he balanced and then glided forward on the balls of his feet. Quick, quick, quick he stepped until he was at the nearest roof support where he could pause and lean to be certain of the success of his stealth. Praying none of them looked up, he moved the rest of the way until he was beyond the wall of crates. Dropping to a crouch, he peered carefully, without giving himself away. Beds but no children. With a frown, he turned back to shake his head at Lir.

She frowned. What if they were in the crates like the first time? How was she going to check that without being caught? It was too low to swing down and examine, and they wouldn't be keeping the children in a top crate anyway.

The company below were delightfully oblivious, and that made Lirssa grin. She was rather proud of Fin's ability to be stealthy. There had to be another answer, but standing there like pigeons for the kill was ludicrous. Lirssa may be bold, but she did try to avoid being insane. Particularly when someone else's life was at risk. So, she began to make the way back to the walkway beneath the exit hatch. She scanned the people below, watching for any tells that they heard. The men at cards jokingly badgered each other, but that was the only conversation going on. The walkway landing met, she waited for Fin. It was important to her that he be kept safe. What would his near and dear say? What would they do? Yeah, better off all around for her to be nabbed than him, if it came to it. So, she waited.